


Disruptions, Pt. 1

by Loki_Laufey



Series: Hasetsu On Ice {UNDER EDITING} [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate universe - Mafia, F/M, M/M, Multi, Past enemies, Smut, strip clubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-11 17:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15320103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Laufey/pseuds/Loki_Laufey
Summary: "Sometimes the best pleasures aren't the most expensive ones, or even the ones that last a long while. Because, if you love it enough, the feeling will last with you longer than the activity lasts."Manipulative. Icy. Beautiful. Three adjectives used to describe Viktor.Viktor Nikiforov is the head of a powerful organization, rivalled only by his past competitor Yakov Feltsman. At his favorite club, Hasetsu On Ice, he plays the lover to a 'nobody' called Yuuri Katsuki. When Yuuri shares a startling news flash - recieved via one of Viktor's old associates boyfriend, Yurio Plisetsky - that Yakov is looking for him, he ends up staking everyone's life on the line. But is it all worth it?Will they come away more broken than before?





	1. Chapter 1

Despite the insistent beeping from the phone to Viktor's left, the room was surprisingly quiet. The windows were closed - it was winter, and Viktor didn't want to turn on the air unless it was absolutely necessary - and the room could almost be considered warm. _Almost_. _That's why sweaters were invented_ , Viktor had joked once.

Piles of paper cluttered up one half of his desk, and the other half had been cleared away so it could be graced with the magnate's polished brown loafers. Normally, he would have taken his shoes off, but seeing that he had somewhere to be in about an hour, he had kept them on.

Said magnate was currently half-asleep, turquoise eyes closed to reveal silvery lashes. The iPod resting on his chest rose and fell with each untroubled breath. But, in this business, you _never_ fell truly asleep. Doing so could be dangerous. 

You had to keep a keen ear and eye out in case someone was sneaking into your room, planning to put the cold mouth of a gun muzzle against your forehead. Or maybe planning to use some other method; a drop of poison in the afternoon tea, smothering or strangling him with his favorite tie (Viktor's eyes fluttered at that unwelcome thought, and he muttered something intelligible., or some other method. _Whatever_ it was, he had to be as ready to combat it as his guards were.

He then fell back asleep.  

Or, he _would_ have, had there not been footsteps walking up to his desk.

"Sir?"

Reluctantly opening one eye, he was greeted by the wide smile and tanned face of his newest associate, Minami Kenjirou. Brown eyes watched him with apprehension - everyone was a bit afraid of the beauty they called their boss - and the boy shifted from foot to foot excitedly.

"Yes?" Viktor cleared his throat and took out one of his earbuds. "What have I told you about interrupting me, Kenjirou?"

"O-only if it's an emergency. But-" Mianmi tripped over his words - _he has too much excitement_ , was Viktors thought - and had to take a second to figure out what he had meant to say again. "Someone wants to see you."

Viktor sat up, removing the other earbud. Unbidden, apprehension began scaling its way down his spine, each and every one of his well-honed senses going on alert. Switching off his iPod, he stood up, fixing Minami with his steely glare.

"Who is it?" Viktor was glad his voice was steady; he certainly didn't feel that way, and he didn't even know why. He hadn't heard or seen anything that was unusual. Walking over to the window, he pulled back the curtains, casting a suspicious glare at the dented silver car parked in the lot.

_Why am I feeling so nervous, then? Nothing has happened!_

He turned back towards the young associate waiting for an answer from him. He spoke as he passed Minami, his voice brisk and clipped.

"Double security. Tell whoever's come to see me that I'm bus-" 

Viktor had barely gotten the last word out before the smell of alcohol - specifically, Jim Beam whiskey - filled the corridor. Viktor wrinkled his nose, and turned to pinpoint whatever - or _who_ ever - was making the smell. His breath caught painfully in his throat as he saw a familiar stocky figure closing the short distance between them and Viktor. The smell is what had made him feel this way; one he remembered from past meetings.

Viktor tried to take in a deep breath but found his throat was still closed up, fear mixing with anger mixing with confusion that he had been bothered by somebody who had vowed to never cross paths with him again. 

His throat opened enough to allow one word to pass through.

" _Yakov_."

Yakov's square face broke into a triumphant grin that more resembled a grimace as he pulled out a pistol and pressed it to Viktor's forehead.

"Hello Viktor. It seems you remember me."


	2. Vicious Circle, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yakov makes a request Viktor is forced to fulfill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the sudden changes in emotion confuse you

"Don't move."

The cold steel of the pistols muzzle pressed firmly against his forehead, and Viktor immediately tried to school his expression so he didn't look as terrified and all too well knowing of what would happen if Yakov pulled the trigger. 

 _No_. He couldn't die right now. there were too many lives on the line - of the people who depended on his protection in this city, of the people he _knew_ Yakov would go after once he killed Viktor. And countless others. 

The people who had gotten involved in this business, either intentionally or by chance. Yurio, Otabek's (Viktor's former associate) new boyfriend. Yuuri, the boy he looked forward to seeing every Thursday evening at the club. The boy whose body he relished.

All of it was hanging in the balance, decided by one stubby finger.

Viktor could taste steel in his throat, and when Yakov leaned in, he could see alcohol on Yakov's beard, cider-colored droplets. Viktor wanted to wrinkle his nose and turn his head away from the scent - he didn't like to drink - but knew of the consequences if he did.

" _Mr. Nikiforov!"_

_"Sir!"_

the voices of his guards reached Viktor's ears, and he slowly held up one gloved and trembling hand. But he kept visual tabs on the steel barrel against his forehead - which was, undeniably, threatening - and the finger resting on that curved piece of metal. 

"Everything is fine." Viktor recognized the green eyes and blond hair of one his guards, Christophe. Though Viktor's voice sounded hollow and unconvincing to his own ears, it stopped the others from getting any closer. Placing his hand back by his side, Viktor locked his eyes on Yakov's darker browns. 

Viktor considered for a moment before he spoke; Yakov was unpredictable, and there was no telling what he would do if Viktor spoke out of turn. But he needed to know what his past archrival was here for.

"What do you want, Yakov? I don't remember owing you money."

"I don't want money, симпатичный мальчик. I want _you_." Yakov answered; the smile on his face grew even wider, if such a thing was possible, twisting his face into something grotesque and nightmare-inducing. 

The combination of the words he had used to describe Viktor (симпатичный мальчик meant _pretty boy_ in Russian, another attribution to the twisted mindset of this man) and the grimace on his face re-awoke the fear in Viktor's chest. 

His heart began pounding, but he was desperate to keep his face looking calm and collected despite the nausea rising in his body. Yakov was here for something, and Viktor hoped the rising suspicions in his mind were _far_ from the mark. 

"What do you mean, you _want_ me?" 

Viktor asked, his voice lowering as he managed to push down the fear he was feeling, and replace it with the cool persona he used in public and when dealing with _scum_ like Yakov. 

The stony look on Viktor's face combined with the low and dangerous tone he was now using should have made the other flinch. Yakov didn't flinch, but he did raise an eyebrow, confused by the sudden change in his victim.

"You're coming with me." Yakov's hand tightened on the gun, confusion gone and frustration replacing it, ready to point the gun if the Mafia boss decided to try anything - Viktor's hands were  slowly curling into fists by his sides.

"And what happens if I refuse?"

"Oh, you wouldn't want to refuse." Yakov laughed. "Because if you don't come with me, I'll blow the club that little pig and his friend go to _sky-high_."

Viktor's heart tightened in his chest, then began beating even harder than before, threatening to break through his ribs. 

_No! Yuuri!_


	3. A Chink In Their Plans (Yuuri POV)

The club was bustling with people. 

Yuuri looked out from a curtain, his wide brown eyes searching for a familiar silver head of hair and bluegreen eyes. When none was found, he bit his lip, anxiously searching again. He'd had a feeling all day in his gut that something was wrong, and the fact that Viktor wasn't occupying his typical seat in the front didn't help. 

Fighting down the uneasiness that rose in his stomach, he let the curtain fall as he walked down the hallways, searching for the other dancer's room. He hoped Yurio wouldn't mind being disturbed for a few minutes, because Yuuri wanted someone to talk to.

Reaching a room marked off by ragged strips of tiger-striped fabric - there was no door - he paused by the entrance, knowing Yurio could see the bottoms of his shoes. 

Shifting from foot to foot, he debated if he should announce himself when he heard the shuffling of footsteps. The smell of a smoky cologne - it had to be Otabek's, as Yuuri knew the Russian didn't normally wear cologne - filled the doorway. A head of tousled blond hair peeked through the fabric. 

"что это?"

"I-I know we have only five minutes before showtime, but I keep thinking something's wrong." 

Blue eyes looked him over for a second before Yurio muttered something else in Russian that Yuuri didn't catch, and he turned around. Yuuri hesitated for a second, wondering if Yurio was allowing him to come in - Yuuri knew he had been interrupting something, and he understood if his competitor didn't want to talk to him. 

Yurio peeked through again to look at him.

"Come in on."

"It's _come on in_." Yuuri corrected him, his voice low enough so no one could really hear it. Yurio didn't usually listen to anyone who tried to correct his grammar, claiming his broken English was good enough for anyone to understand him. 

Walking in, Yuuri took a seat on an unoccupied computer chair, offering a smile to Yurio's tanned boyfriend. As usual, it was impossible to read anything on Otabek's face, his dark brown eyes almost stony in their stoicism. 

"So, what? Is wrong?" Yurio asked as he stood in front of a mirror, running a comb through the soft blond locks he wore over one side of his face, giving a mysterious air to the tough aura he gave off. "Why worried.... _how_ do you say it?"

"Why are you worried?"

" _Da_. That is it. Why?"

"It's...Viktor hasn't shown up. But...that's not...I feel like that's not exactly why.."

"He could run late," Yurio offered as he set down the comb and swiveled to face him. "But what worrying you?"

"I've..been feeling like something's off all day. Ever since I walked in an hour ago."

"Ah. Should call him." Yurio picked up his phone and lobbed it at Yuuri - it bounced off his chest and landed in his lap.

" _Ow_. Thank you." 

Yuuri flipped it open and thumbed the 'on' button. The screen flickered to life, and Yuuri took a moment to scroll through the pages of apps, wanting to ask Yurio about the ones with a Russian label.

"Wait, where do you keep contacts?"

"You mean контакт, da?" Yurio grabbed the phone back and scrolled back to a page Yuuri had missed, opening up a display of names Yuuri didn't know. "Here. _Vitya_."

"Vitya?" 

Yuuri had heard that name before, and as he found Viktor's work number, he tried to remember who had said and who they meant. Shaking all thoughts from his head, he pressed the 'call' button and waited for Viktor to pick up. 

The sound of the phone's ringing on the other line only served to fuel the brunette's worry, and his leg began bouncing up and down at a rate that made the springs of Yurio's bed creak. 

"вырезать это. Cut that out."

Yuuri nodded. And just as he was about to stop because the nerves filling his body were getting to be too much, he heard the ringing end and the click of someone picking up.

"Vik-" Yuuri didn't get any farther than that as a gravelly, amused laugh cut him off; a choked sound left Yuuri's throat. This was certainly not Viktor - the silver-haired magnate had an almost velvety laugh. Whose laugh was this? 

For the second time in what had to be a minute, Yuuri found himself searching his memory. When he came up with the answer, hot bile rose in his throat at the same time a cold, ghostly finger traced the length of his spine. 

"Y-Yakov?" 

The phone was yanked out of Yuuri's hands with that one word, the blond snatching it up to put the horrible crime syndicate on speakerphone. 

None of them particularily _wanted_ to hear his voice - it brought back all the awful memories they carried of him from every meeting, like a parasite residing in the farthest corners of their minds - but hearing Yakov's voice speaking directly into their ears felt like a....a sin of some sort. Far too close for comfort.

"What hell do you want us?" Yurio demanded.

"Oh, don't be so mad, little kitten." Yakov laughed. 

"I have a little question to ask you."


End file.
